There’s one subtle moment where Far Cry 3 drives its message home — maybe not even on purpose: It’s when you’re hunting wild game, seeking their skins to help Brody carry more gear. The defenseless goat wails as it makes a futile dash for safety, Brody running the animal down and plunging the knife in, a deep and ominous bass tone droning in the background. It has to be done, but it doesn’t feel right.
That sad and beautiful moment, where the horror of your actions is implied rather than spoken — oddly enough, it’s a lot like playing Far Cry 2.
And then Brody ruins it as he stuffs the skin into his napsack, saying, ”Ugh. Disgusting.”